


Fish Gutted

by chelonianmobile



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Horror, Butchering, Character Death, Disembowelment, Dismemberment, Dreambubbles, Gen, Genital Torture, Guro, Hard vore, M/M, Skinning, Torture, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelonianmobile/pseuds/chelonianmobile
Summary: Kurloz, Eridan, and a set of butcher knives. This one getsgruesome.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: HSCCS Fall Promptfest 2020





	Fish Gutted

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HSCCSFallPromptfest2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HSCCSFallPromptfest2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> (anyone) butchers eridan for consumption. Maybe he gets away. Maybe he does not. At least part of him is eaten. 
> 
> I cannot believe butchering is not a tag on ao3.
> 
> ANY relationship, if ur going to give this one. Horny or not horny, up to you.

Cold and dark, and smelling of blood and smoke. Eridan's eyes slid open, nictiating membranes fluttering in rhythm with his gills, and saw only a darkness so deep that he wondered if he had opened his eyes at all, or if he even was still inside a dreambubble. He waited, expecting the slithering limbs of the horrorterrors to rend him apart, but nothing happened. He considered the memories from Feferi he'd encountered, of the icy depths where Gl'bgolyb lay, but there was no water around him. He would have been better off if there was. It occurred to him that his shoulders were in pain, turning to numbness, as his entire body weight was hanging from them, his hands chained above his head. Rust bit into his wrists when he squirmed.

**LITTLE GUPPY'S ON THE HOOK.**

Eridan was familiar with chucklevoodoos, resistant to them to a large degree thanks to his high rank, but he still tensed and stiffened his fins, a shiver even colder than the room around him oozing down his spine. "Wwho's there? Showw yourself, landdwweller!"

Hands slipped around his neck from behind, over his shoulders, down his ribs. Purpleblood temperature, to go with the voodoo voice. Lips brushed his fin. It took him a moment to interpret the rough feeling that overlaid them; twine, sewing them shut.

 **NOW NOW, MY PRECIOUS PRIZE, DON'T YOU BE CRYING OUT YOUR SALT NOW. WHAT CAN I DO TO YOU? WE'RE ALL ALREADY DEAD.** A huffing little breath from his captor's nose cooled Eridan's nape. **WHAT CAN I DO INDEED. LET US LEARN.**

With a snap of the purple's fingers, sick-green light warmed the room marginally. A stone room, a basement or crypt perhaps, with chains hung from the rafters, from which Eridan was presently dangling, his toes brushing the floor. More, thinner chains hung beside him, tipped with wickedly sharp hooks. Eridan swung helplessly, threw his weight down to test the strength of his restraints; they stood firm, and his wrists and shoulders hurt worse than ever. The purpleblood stepped out from behind him; it was Gamzee's dancestor... Kurloz? Was that his name? Eridan was sure he'd heard it somewhere. Deep in Eridan's soul, instinctive fear bloomed. Kurloz was taller than him, rangier, stronger despite being thin as ship's cable and hatched in the gentler world.

"Wwhat're you-"

Kurloz placed a finger on Eridan's lips, and another on his own. **OH DARLING, SAVE YOUR STRENGTH. STAY SOFT. APPRECIATE THIS, MY BROTHER IN CLASS. BE HAPPY A FELLOW PRINCE SHOULD TAKE YOU DOWN.**

"Fuck that!" Eridan tried to control the rising pitch of his voice. "Wwhat're you doin' to me? Wwhat is this, your fucked-up rape cavve? You touch me and I'll-"

 **YOU'LL DO WHAT? HANG THERE AND "WWWIGGLE" SOME MORE?** If his mouth had been unbound, Kurloz would have been grinning. As it was, his lips barely parted and Eridan gagged on the stench of unbrushed, rotting teeth. **NO, THAT IS NOT WHAT I'M ABOUT. NOT TONIGHT.**

Kurloz slunk around behind Eridan's back again, and the unfortunate seadweller heard clattering. Small metal instruments. No. Oh no. Eridan's great love was the study of history, and, Alternia being Alternia, a great many books had been written on the study and improvement over the centuries of torture. As a legal practice, it wasn't even necessary ninety-nine cases in a hundred, with the cerulean ability to force the truth from most trolls. That had never stopped those above teal from trying.

Eridan listened harder, as if he could determine what was coming from sound alone. Thumbscrews? Gill-ripper? When Kurloz re-emerged with only a long, sharp knife in hand, it was almost a disappointment. Not much of a relief, though. Less so, when Kurloz pulled the tray of other knives into view.

The first knife was used to cut along the seams of Eridan's clothes, Kurloz holding each limb one by one. His strength was tremendous in comparison to Eridan's; seadwellers were built for speed, not like the purpleblood tank-ish type, and Eridan was so small next to him. Despite what Kurloz had said earlier, his hands did linger. Eridan kicked and twisted in the air, indeed resembling a fish on a hook. Kurloz made the huffing chuckling sound again, and drove his fingers into Eridan's torso gills. Eridan screamed, feeling the delicate membranes rip right open and leak violet onto the floor. Kurloz curled his fingers to hold his prey's body still, and cut away the remnants of his shirt. His prized scarf was the last item to go, dropped unceremoniously to soak in the blood on the floor. That, and not the fear or pain, was what finally caused Eridan's tears to flow.

"Wwhy are you doin' this? This is fucked up, it's so fucked up..."

**SSHHH, LITTLE PRINCELING. IT WILL ALL BE OVER SOON.**

"Wwhat wwill?!"

Kurloz simply picked up the second knife.Eridan gritted his fangs, but very little could prepare him for the tearing sensation as the tip of the blade drove into his belly, just under his thoracic struts, and drew down to his pubic mound. He squeezed his eyes closed, tears pouring harder, and shrieked. While he was in little shape to notice, the cut wasn't very deep; maybe an inch of the blade went in, slicing easily through skin and muscle. Eridan's insides, when Kurloz hooked his fingers into the wound's edges and pulled, were relatively unscathed, the outer membrane nicked at the top but the organs not leaking. Kurloz grabbed the membrane, and ripped that open too, then pushed his hands in and started unwinding the guts.

**THERE WE GO. WASH THOSE OUT AND THEY'LL BE GOOD AND READY.**

Ready for what, Eridan now suspected. He hoped he was wrong, though ultimately it would make no difference.

He still kicked weakly as Kurloz pulled one leg up over his shoulder, but it did him no good, and he was not prepared for the feeling of the smaller, sharper knife driving into his perineum. He gasped and wailed as it sawed away, around the edges of both his lower openings, allowing Kurloz to pull out both the end of his intestine (which he neatly tied off) and his slurry sacs. For the first time, Eridan wished he was lower-blooded. A rust would have died by now, or, since they were in a dreambubble, passed out to regenerate; his slow heartbeat and cold blood kept everything fresh and functioning. Unlike Kanaya, Kurloz had been very careful not to hit a blood vessel. He took the organs to the corner and lay them down. They spilled, and Eridan gagged on the smell.

Kurloz likewise removed his bladder, and then reached into his sheath from the inside, grasping his bulge firmly. Eridan had time to cry "NO NO NO-" before a serrated blade started sawing through the gristly flesh, and he was reduced to wordless shrieks of pain again. When the rubbery violet tendril was out, Kurloz held it up, appraisingly.

**WAS IT BIGGER WITH BLOOD IN IT?**

Eridan was too far gone to respond, even when Kurloz stroked the severed bulge across his face, tracing the very last of his own slurry along his lips.

 **THE WORST IS OVER. CEASE YOUR WHIMPERS,** Kurloz ordered. Clearly the whole business wasn't over yet, though, as he knelt and placed the serrated blade on Eridan's ankle. **THIS IS NOTHING TO COMPARE TO THAT.** He wasn't strictly wrong. Eridan's pain level had reached the point at which he could only take silent, heavy breaths and wait as one foot, then another, then his calves, were separated. Each piece was hung up on one of the small hooks, to allow the blood to drain.

Kurloz hacked through the tendons holding Eridan's thighs to his hips, hung those up too, and returned to the gaping, dripping wound that was his abdomen. **PERHAPS I LIED. BRACE YOUR BLASPHEMOUS SELF, BROTHER.**

"Wwhat - wwait - no-"

Kurloz gripped one side of the wound, and pulled. With a terrible, wet, fleshy sound, the skin and muscle on Eridan's left side were ripped right away from his ribcages, like paper from a parcel. Eridan's eyes bulged, his fins flapped, and his gills heaved as strip by strip they tore away from him, out from between his ribs. Soon his flesh hung in tatters from the remnants of his torso, and he sobbed brokenly as Kurloz took hold of the other side and adjusted his feet on the slippery floor, giving himself a solid stance to do it all over again. Another _rrrrip,_ and Eridan's thoracic support was bared, his flesh dangling in flaps like a fallen angel's ruined wings. Kurloz simply stepped behind him, gripped both of them, and pulled again, stepping backwards, until it all came away in one piece from Eridan's spine.

Finally, mercifully, Eridan felt the pain fading, his vision blackening around the edges like burning paper. He recognised it as the death of his illusory body, and welcomed it. Kurloz started sawing into his shoulder joints, and Eridan's last coherent thoughts were a sincere wish that he wouldn't wake up back here again.

~

Cronus sprawled on the grass in a memory of Beforus, basking in the pink moonlight, guitar in hand. With an index claw blunted and filed into the shape of a pick, he strummed away, humming and whistling and singing random snatches of whatever came into his head.A shadow fell over him, and he shivered, but relaxed when he looked up and saw it was Kurloz, and that Kurloz was smiling. It wasn't about Mituna, then... "Hey there, big guy. Vwhat's shakin'?"

Kurloz held up a paper bag, reached inside, and pulled out a generously-sized sandwich. The filling was a thick, meaty-looking fillet - shark steak or tuna, perhaps, Cronus thought - seared black on the outside and leaking browned juices into the soft white bread, underlaid with a lettuce leaf and topped with tomato slices. It smelled of barbecue charcoal and a sprinkle of lemon, and Cronus's mouth watered immediately. Kurloz's mouth, in contrast, spread as wide as it could still go. He handed the sandwich to Cronus, who looked at him in puzzlement. From his sylladex, he took a pen, and wrote on the empty bag.

**THOUGHT YOU MIGHT BE HUNGRY.**


End file.
